Growing Up Without You
by JamKaraLee47
Summary: Everyone knows what Irina missed out on, but Sydney has thoughts of her own childhood. TAKES us through the most important days that shaped Syd's life. R/R!
1. The Beginning of a Lifetime

Growing Up Without you  
Summary: Everyone knows what Irina missed out on, but Sydney has thoughts of her own childhood.  
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...  
* * * * * *Chapter One: The Beginning of a Lifetime * * * * * *  
  
"Let's play cops and robbers." The little tomboy screamed. Armed with her fake police badge and toy gun, she stepped into her role. Little did she know, that she wore her daddy's badge and that later on she would be aiming a real gun.  
  
She mused over her childhood possessions when she came across the same photo. In it she brandished her weapon accurately like a trained assassin. The only repressed memory, that was not visible to a stranger, was the woman capturing the moment.  
Her mother.  
  
More than twenty years was wasted glorifying her dead hero, when in truth she deceived the one person she loved, or pretended to love. It was time, she would finally end the game of cops and robbers or spy vs. spy.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Every morning the little angel would wake up alone, cradling her mother's locket. The dream was always different, but the ending remained the same. Sometime, the girl would be swinging from a tire tied to the old elm as her mother gaily pushed her to the heavens, or they would construct a fort of marshmallow pillows strong enough to with stand a fiery dragon's breath.  
  
Yet for every beginning there is an end. Laura patted Siddy's head and wiped the smeared lipstick off her daughter's cheek. She disregarded her baby's cries, though in the morning the wailing was the only sound heard. Her mother revved the engine and drove off into the sunset towards Old Creek Bridge as Sydney tried to follow on foot trying to erase the inevitable.  
  
A sudden jolt, mixed with sweat and tears, rocked the six year old from her slumber. A foreigner to her world burst through the door and whispered sweet words of relief. It was never her father to embrace his broken daughter and in return she never adored him like other little girls do.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The chapters are short, but they need to be formatted like this.  
  
~Stephanie 


	2. How Much Do You Know

Growing Up Without you  
Summary: Everyone knows what Irina missed out on, but Sydney has thoughts of her own childhood.  
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...  
* * * * * *Chapter Two: How Much Do You Know * * * * * *  
  
Brushing the tears and photograph aside, Sydney climbed deeper into her box and mind. A worn out school project lay abandoned by its owner, now wrinkled with age. Flipping through the contents of the report, she noticed how miniscule her family tree was. On one side was her father's family, down from Great-Aunt Isabella to Jack. But on the other half, quickly jotted into the slot was Laura Bristow in a tiny scrawl. Before that sixth grade day, it never occurred to her how little she knew about her mother.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Did she have a grandmother? Did Mommy play with dolls? Where did she live?" The eleven year old approached her weary, almost gray haired father. His lips pursed as he tried to think of an answer, but not even he knew his wife's intimate personal life, just false lies created by analysts.  
  
"What do you know so far?" he asked monotonously without even looking up from the report in front of him. His coffee now forgotten and cold was filled to the brim.  
  
"Not much," she shrugged.  
  
"Then that's all you need to know now go off and play with Rosa," he responded as he checked off an item on the paper.  
  
"I can't Rosa has the day off. Plus, the project's do tomorrow and all I have is Laura Bristow," Sydney whined.  
  
"Don't ever say that name again." His voice bordered a threat and that on the verge of tears. "Please just leave it at that," he reached over for the half empty bottle of Vodka and gulped the remnants.  
  
Sydney muttered under her breath that he shouldn't drink, but the Jack was oblivious to her daughter's presence. He was so submerged in his grief to notice Sydney confiscated the coffee mug and vacant bottle. As she neared the study door, she couldn't help, but think that he was suffering more than her. Peering through the crack one final time, she observed Jack clasp his bowed head in his hands and grieve for the woman he loved. A tear streamed down his palm and before it reached his rolled up cuff, the door closed.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The next chapter is near.  
  
~Stephanie~ 


	3. Daisies and Daffodils

Growing Up Without you  
Summary: Everyone knows what Irina missed out on, but Sydney has thoughts of her own childhood.  
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...  
* * * * * *Chapter Three: Daisies and Daffodils* * * * * *  
  
The Kleenex box rocked protectively in Sydney's arms. Photo albums, teddy bears, finger paints, and other miscellaneous items were randomly scattered on the dining room table. Only one two more items remained in the cardboard prison, but the last two memories were the few connections to her past that she regretted the most.  
  
Ding Dong. Opening the door, she fell into strong muscular arms. Tears poured from her lamenting soul sponging into her savior's shirt. After a moment of unleashing pent up qualms, she released her clenched fists and accepted the tissue pressed against her nose  
  
"It'll be okay. I'm here now," soothed the voice, "Where is it?"  
  
Like frightened children, they cautiously approached the box. Near the base resided a glazed snapshot. The masculine hand extracted it from its grave and twirled the photograph to the upside. In a hushed whisper she spoke, "Michael, she wasn't there." Exposing the picture to the light, they stared at the girl clasping her mascara soaked dress.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Sydney, hurry up your ride's going to be here any minute," cried the nanny from the foot of the stairs. "Sydney." When she didn't hear a response she slinked over to the bedroom door and laid her ear to the wood. Genuinely concerned about the muffled sobbing, she knocked on the door, "Sydney, can I come in?"  
  
Before, she could even retort, the door flung open as Rosa treaded over to the huddled figure. Rosa lifted the frills and lace from the sulking teenager's face. Rivers of mascara marring her blemish-free skin. "Why aren't you dressed?"  
  
"I'm not going," she exclaimed hotly as she crossed her arms.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It wasn't supposed to be like this! I need her here!"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"I need my mother, understand. After all, Prom Night is one of the most memorable days of my life. I need her to fix my hair, apply my makeup, and reassure me that everything's going to be fine. I want her to wait for me as I make an entrance down the stairs holding her bouquet of daisies and daffodils bombarding me with flashes. But she'll never see me happy because she's dead. And I hate her for it!" With that she threw the dress to the floor and stormed from the room.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
".I just blew up at her for no reason at all. It wasn't her fault, Mom wasn't there," she concluded as she walked down memory lane.  
  
Michael hesitated and decided to go for it. He wrapped his hands over hers and stared straight into her eyes, "Sydney, I think you really you need to tell your mother how you feel, not me."  
  
She simply nodded and picked up the last piece of her past. Walking out the door, she uttered, "I'll be home late tonight."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Last Chapter: Sydney confronts Irina. 


	4. When There Is Nothing Left To Say

Growing Up Without You  
Summary: Everyone knows what Irina missed out on, but Sydney has thoughts of her own childhood.  
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...  
* * * * * *Chapter Four: When There Is Nothing Left To Say* * * * * *  
  
The non-fluorescent lights ricocheted off the sanitized bleak walls. The endless corridor stretched for miles in every direction, and like a lost little girl she was afraid of the surprise on either end. But with determination etched on her face she strode off to meet her daunting task.  
  
Yet, Sydney felt this eerie sense that she had relived this moment long ago. The circumstances may have been different, but the same pent up emotions drowned her desert isle washing driftwood memories to the shore.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The wall paper trim led her to the Intensive Care Unit. The yellow brick road abruptly stopped and with unsheltered eyes she surveyed her surroundings. The waiting room was nearly empty for this time of night. A few dislocated relatives of other patients sparsely populated the network of plastic seats.  
  
Anxiety flowed through her veins, poisoning her with unknown elements. She questioned her reasons, "Why are you here? It's not like he was really there for you?" Her mind mocked her subjected loyalty, but her sparring heart defended her means, "He's your father that's reason enough."  
  
Reassured by this course of subconscious action, she timidly approached the receptionist at call. "Can you tell me about Jack Bristow? He was brought in a few minutes ago," she leaned on the counter for physical and emotional support.  
  
"Are you family?" asked inquisitively nurse on hand. Sydney meekly nodded afraid to rattle her head in fear of shedding tears. "Bristow, with an 'I'?" her back now turned as files shifted in the background. The chair wheeled back to Sydney, with file in hand, she fiddle with the health papers and pulled out a sheet.  
  
Letting out a soft sigh and through a sincere face, she revealed, "His surgery is still pending. Take a seat over there and the doctor will be along shortly."  
  
* * *  
  
She cast a weary eye at the wall clock and yawned to the arrival of 2:30. Though in a hazy early morning state, her body drugged her with adrenalin at the approach of a blood-stained fatigued doctor.  
  
Sensing her uneasiness by his step, he placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. Her eyes showered in fear of his looming words. "Mr. Bristow was shot nearly four times in the abdomen. Lucky, the bullets managed to steer clear of several vital organs. But," there was always a BUT, "one slightly punctured an artery. We were able to repair the damage to some extent, however, it is highly unlikely he'll survive the night."  
  
Sydney slunk over to the back wall in shame. She was helpless and guilty of being the revengeful daughter, for nearly 20 years she silently made it her mission to shut out her father from her world. All in remorse for mom.  
  
And now her remaining family was slipping away. Clinging to life by an IV. She hated her father for burdening her with grief and reflexively she bit her lip before sinking into plastic chair. "You were never there, not when mom died, or my graduation, or sweet sixteenth and now you expect to die when I barely know you," she cried mutely to her lingering sanity. In a silent vigil, she prayed that she would make up for lost time. That if he could hang on and live on borrowed time, she would visit him other days than Christmas. Reciting her vow over an over, she swore to let him back into her life. All she needed was a second chance.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
She turned a left at the crossroads and tossed an apologetic smile at the guard. Chucking her business-like profile, she reassessed her true motivations and coaxed herself with two simple phrases. "I'm on a mission to reclaim my past life. If Jack was given a second chance, Irina deserves one, too."  
  
She faced the transparent barrier before resting the box at her feet, "Hi, Mom."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
By the way in the flashback Sydney is around 25 yrs old.  
  
P.S. Of you know how to get italics and bold fonts on ff.net leave the instructions in a review. PLEASE.  
  
TEE HEE so you didn't see the whole confrontation with Irina yet, wait until the next chapter. What's in the box? I don't know yet so don't ask me. Any ideas? All I have is a vague idea and it relates to something on the show. 


End file.
